Weeping willow
by Dreamsplinter
Summary: Harry spies Draco swimming in the lake one early autumn morning, a watery rescue could lead to a friendship? Or.. something more?
1. Weeping Willow

bWeeping Willow/b By Dreamsplinter  
  
Length: one chapter out of several to come  
  
Rating: G for the moment. This story will not be NC17. Sorry folks. Porn it is not, but love story it will be.  
  
Obligatory Warning: This is slash fiction. Meaning two members of the same sex in love. It is not pornography, just a love story between two characters you already know.  
  
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with the Harry Potter universe. Well, except for this humble eking of a slashfic. These characters are not mine, but it was very, very tempting to steal them away for a while. I'll bring 'em back. I promise! //looks innocent//  
  
Summary: Harry watches Draco swimming in the lake from the safety of a weeping willow tree. The story gets moving from there. But don't leave! There's more to the plot, I swear.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The autumn sun hovered cheerily just over the horizon, flushing scattered clouds a tickled pink and gently warming the stones of Hogwarts castle. The sun had risen not too long ago, so most students and faculty were still abed. Most, save two.  
  
Harry Potter, one usually so calm and unruffled, hadn't slept a wink the entire night previous. His footsteps were slow and meandering as he swished through the uncut grass down by the lake. His sights were set on a large, morose willow tree, with every intention of finally reading the letter Sirius had sent him, in private. But if he had looked up from his shoe tops for more than an instant, he would have noticed the other sole conscious being on the grounds at that moment. He reached the willow, climbed into a comfortable spot, and started to read.  
  
In the meantime, Draco Malfoy was fighting for his life. Cold lake water filled his ears, pressed in on his vision, and once again made him wonder (not for the first time) why he put himself through this torture every morning. He gave an inward shrug, figuring there could be worse ways to stay in shape. Draco's pale arms cut through the surface of the water in steady, fluid motions, pulling him closer to shore.  
  
A soft splashing from the lake caught Harry's attention, and he put down Sirius' letter to peek through the willow branches in curiosity.  
  
Draco came up from under the water, cutting through its reflective surface like a knife. His toes brushed the bottom, kicking up little clouds of sediment as he emerged from the lake. His dripping form was covered by only a black racing swimsuit, which gave sharp contrast to pale skin and platinum blond hair. Harry couldn't help but notice that for one so thin, Malfoy had surprisingly good muscle definition. //Must be the Quidditch,// Harry mused, then chastised himself for even looking in the first place. The blond boy shook his hair out vigorously, sending crystal droplets flying every which way, and picked up his towel from where he had deposited it in the sand about half an hour earlier. Apparently headed for a hot shower and a good preening, Malfoy stalked off in the direction of the boy's locker room.  
  
Above the rustling of willow leaves, Harry's ears picked out the faint sound of owl cries. Morning Post, and breakfast would be starting soon enough. Stretching his stiff arms, (and nearly falling out of the tree) Harry got down and trudged in the direction of the castle, with Sirius' letter still unread.  
  
The Great Hall was a flurry of activity in the morning as students inhaled a hasty breakfast, socialized, or in some cases did the homework due within the next hour or so. Above all this hubbub, Harry mentioned casually to his friends,  
  
"Guess who I saw in the lake this morning?"  
  
Hermione was all ears in an instant, but Ron took a few pokes before he was anywhere near alert.  
  
"Honestly, Ron, you're going to fall asleep in your oatmeal at this rate," Hermione sniffed.  
  
Ron grunted in reply, but said to Harry, "Who was it?"  
  
"Eh, nobody really, just Malfoy. Dunno what he thought he was doing, swimming at the crack of dawn."  
  
"Maybe he'll do us all a favor and drown," Ron interjected, prompting a roll of the eyes from Hermione, who responded,  
  
"I guess he just wants to stay in good shape, or maybe it's stress relief, I read this article about exercise the other day and how it helps things like depression--"  
  
"Oh come on Hermione, it's too early for this--"  
  
"Hey! It might do you good to know these things sometime, you know--"  
  
Harry just laughed as his two best friends dissolved into hopeless bickering yet again. They continued for a while, until Hermione asked,  
  
"Why were you up so early, Harry?"  
  
The boy in question just shrugged, raking his fingers through unruly black locks, "Just couldn't sleep I guess. Having wicked bad dreams lately."  
  
Both Hermione and Ron looked alarmed at this. Ron ventured, "Uh, Harry, remember the last time this happened? You don't think it's." Hermione bit her lip and looked concerned.  
  
"No really, don't worry. Probably something I ate." His jade eyes were anywhere but on his friends.  
  
"For a whole week? Honestly Harry--" The bushy haired girl began.  
  
"Really, Herm. Trust me. If it gets bad, I'll go to Madame Pomfrey or something," Harry's smile didn't reach his eyes.  
  
//Don't worry, guys, I'll be fine. Really.//  
  
The morning bell rang, signaling the start of another school day, and the Dynamic Trio didn't have much time to think as any worries were swept away by the sudden rush of people headed to class.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Draco Malfoy had taken his usual seat at the very back of the Potions classroom, allowing himself to enjoy watching the looks on the Gryffindors' faces as they trooped into the dank smelling dungeon for the last class of the day. As usual, Potter and Weasley were late. Professor Snape swooped on the two of them like a smug version of the grim reaper, taking ten points from gryffindor in his wake. Draco smirked, but his smirk turned to a genuine frown when Snape announced,  
  
"Well Mister Potter, since we cannot come to class on time, perhaps you will have better luck keeping up with Mister Malfoy. You could learn a few things from him."  
  
Jade eyes met silver with an almost tangible flicker of electricity, and the entire class was tuned in to see how this odd pairing would pan out. But the raven-haired boy surprised everyone by gathering up his books and calmly sitting in the empty seat next to Draco.  
  
"Anything funny, and my wand is going down your throat," He muttered.  
  
Draco smirked and winked roguishly, "Really Potter, you could at least buy me dinner first."  
  
Harry gritted his teeth, and from a distance one couldn't really tell if that becoming blush was from anger or embarrassment.  
  
Draco leaned back in his chair. Score: Malfoy, one. Potter, zero.  
  
The period progressed in a rather silent manner, with Potter preparing the effervicserum potion, and Malfoy dictating what to do next.  
  
"Alright Potter, grind these boarhound teeth while I copy down the next instructions."  
  
"Why am I doing all the work? What, are your hands too delicate to get soiled by mixing up nasty animal bits?" Harry shot Draco a look, accidentally letting a leaping Mellifluous Plant get away from him to jump up and smack him in the forehead. The few students around them giggled as Harry fought the plant into submission. Draco bit his tongue stifling a laugh, and the mischievous little plant (which resembled a small, un-husked corncob with legs) squirmed in Harry's grasp.  
  
"Not at all Potter, just some of us are better for grunt work than others," He chortled.  
  
"You'd think that that sort of thing would run in the family--"  
  
"What's your point, Potter?" Draco narrowed his eyes.  
  
"Oh nothing, it's just a shame that troll of a mother you have couldn't pass down some of her strength to her son," Harry spat.  
  
Draco was fit to strangle Harry right then and there, had it not been for a rather quiet and studious classroom. "At least I have a family, you Muggle- born bastard!" He hissed.  
  
Harry was gripping the mellifluous plant with such force that it started whimpering quietly. "If it weren't for people like you and your family, I might still have one!"  
  
Both boys were standing now. "Are you insulting my heritage?" Draco growled, reaching for his wand.  
  
But it was too late. In reaching for his own wand, Harry had let go of the leaping mellifluous plant. It promptly sprang to the floor, ricocheted off the underside of the table, and conked Draco in the nose like a corncob from a cannon. Draco hollered and the rouge plant proceeded to upset the boys' potion, spilling tangerine glop all over the floor and sending the next row of students in front of them up and shrieking. Pandemonium ensued, and Seamus Finnegan hooted as the mad plant bounced across his desk, scattering his and Neville's papers everywhere. The plant took a sharp left turn, and using its stalk-like legs, propelled itself off the wall and plummeted straight towards professor Snape. Students screamed, and the potions teacher had to dodge the flying vegetable, which changed course and headed back towards Harry. Thinking quickly, Harry seized the now empty cauldron and held it up just in time to catch the high projectile plant with a resounding *clang! *  
  
"GOOOOAAAAALLLLLLL!!!" Crowed Seamus, and he nudged Neville with his toe, who was busy cowering under the desk.  
  
The plant, apparently stunned, lay in a crumpled heap at the bottom of Harry and Draco's cauldron, and they only had enough time to observe this when a very enraged Potions Professor came thundering over to them.  
  
"Potter! Did I not say to use restraining clamps on the mellifluous plant? And Malfoy! I would have expected more precaution from you. Gentlemen, the two of you will be cleaning up this mess in detention tonight. Not even the second week of school. I would have thought more of sixth year students. And ten points from Gryffindor, for not following instructions." Snape swished into his office with a snarl.  
  
With that, the bell was a welcome end to a messy class period. As students filed out of the room, chattering in their excitement, Draco looked around at the chaos one tiny plant had caused, turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.  
  
Harry stooped to gather his scattered parchments, seething inwardly at the thought of having to spend a few dire hours in the company of Draco Malfoy. The light in the room shifted just a bit, and Harry looked up to see Snape towering over him. Harry gulped. Snape had all the charming looks of a serpent about to strike, smiling coldly down on Harry from his superior height. Almost like a foreshadowing effect, a soft gust of chilly air blew in the door and sent shivers up Harry's spine.  
  
"Dear mister Potter. Might I make a suggestion?"  
  
//Here it comes--// Harry thought.  
  
"During your detention with Malfoy tonight, you might try getting along for once," Snape's eyes were flat and dull.  
  
Harry started to protest, but Snape interrupted. "Just make an effort for once. You might find the two of you have more in common than you think."  
  
//Professor Snape? Being civil? Pinch me, I'm dreaming. Quite frankly, there are much better things to dream about, but even so, this is unheard of! // Harry dumbly gathered his books and his thoughts, heading for the door. "Uh, thanks Professor. I'll, uh, try."  
  
But almost as if to prove he wasn't breaking character, Snape mentioned to Harry's retreating form, "At least try not to kill each other. You've made a fine enough mess of my dungeon as it is."  
  
Harry nodded, and made a hasty exit, stage right.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Awww, detention with that slimy git? There goes your helping me with arithmancy tonight," Ron complained over dinner. The Great Hall was its usual din, even more so tonight, with rumors of the school's most famous rivals nearly coming to blows. Again.  
  
"Please, Ron. You weren't going to study anyway. You just want something to blame Malfoy for."  
  
Hermione could be very perceptive at times.  
  
"Ahh, what do you know? If you'd just help me out every now and then, maybe I would be doing better in that class."  
  
"Copying answers isn't helping, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, "Maybe if you'd take the time to let me explain some of it."  
  
Ron looked pensive. With Harry gone, there would be nothing much else worth doing that night. "--Do ya think you could?"  
  
"I dunno Ron, you're pretty hopeless," Hermione smiled and raised an eyebrow, "Of course I will silly!" The two chuckled.  
  
"Whatsa matter, Harry? You're awful quiet tonight." Ron steered the conversation away from school for the moment.  
  
"Nothing really," Harry replied, "Just thinking I guess."  
  
//"You might find the two of you have more in common than you might think."// The pleasant bustle of the Great Hall faded to a faint buzz in Harry's eardrums as he turned the Professor's words over in his mind. He only came to when the large grandfather clock outside the Hall sounded six o'clock with a loud *bong.*  
  
"Hey, I better get going. See you guys later, if I'm still alive," Harry managed a crooked smile, and headed off in the direction of the dungeons.  
  
As the two friends watched him leave, Hermione wondered, "Any idea what's bugging him?"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Small wonder the Slytherin's head of house chose the dungeons as his main place of operation. The corridors were dimly lit by flickering mage- torches, tripping up hapless pedestrians on occasion to send them sprawling onto a slightly damp, musty floor. The entire place was curtained in the scent of damp stone and mildew, giving one the impression of walking into a long, gaping cave. Harry entered the Potions classroom to find Draco slouched against a desk, already waiting.  
  
"You're late. Snape's already been by. We've got an hour," Malfoy drawled, gesturing to two scruffy scrub brushes and a large, communal cauldron of sudsy water.  
  
"Why didn't you start, then?" Harry looked innocently puzzled, letting down his guard on accident.  
  
"And let you get out of some of the work? I think not," Draco scoffed. Obviously Potter was stupid as well as rude. This was going to be a long hour indeed.  
  
"Oh. Of course." Harry tried not to let Draco see his embarrassment at making such an obvious comment.  
  
"No magic tonight either, though I doubt it would do any good," Draco commented, picking at a glob of semi-gelatinous potion on the side of the table.  
  
Harry looked like ten days of rain. "Oh marvelous. Just fantastic! I have to spend an* hour* in here with you scraping pond scum off the walls with *no magic-"  
  
Draco's blood was starting to boil at the other boy's angry words. "You think this is a picnic for me, Potter? You're not exactly my favorite person either! Dumbledore's little Golden Boy, never gotten a detention in his life, I bet!"  
  
Harry raked long fingers through his mop of hair, trying to suppress a great many words that were desperately begging to escape. "For your information, this is not my first detention, I've had three!" he bit off each syllable as though it might mutate into something dangerous even as he spoke. The two boys stood for nearly a minute, not moving, but not looking at each other, their bodies tense and poised for potential combat. Eventually, it was Harry who gave up first. His shoulders sagged, and he said,  
  
"Can't we at least get started? Fighting's not going to get us any closer to cleaning this mess."  
  
Draco relaxed, but warily. "Fine," He said coolly, once again becoming a human icicle. It seemed to Harry that Malfoy only had two emotions: smug and livid. Anything else was unnecessary and therefore not shown. The boys worked without speaking for nearly half an hour on hands and knees, with only the scraping of brushes and the occasional slosh of water to fill the void of the dungeon's dark, vaulted ceiling.  
  
Finally, Draco broke the long band of silence between them. Without looking up, he questioned, "What were they for?"  
  
Harry looked up, with a classic Potter innocence.  
  
"Come again?"  
  
"The detentions, Potter. What were they for?" Draco responded with thinly veiled interest.  
  
"Oh!" Harry laughed nervously, not noticing how Draco's eyes flicked at him when he did so. He put a hand to the back of his head, ruffling his own hair in a sheepish gesture, forgetting about his soapy fingers. "Well, err, I. wait, why do you want to know?"  
  
The question wasn't suspicious, as Harry was obviously going to tell him anyway, so Draco played off of it a little by batting his eyelashes in an exaggerated fashion and pouting splendidly, saying, "Oh come on Potter, I'm *dying * to know."  
  
Harry couldn't help but smile a little at how ridiculous Malfoy was being, even with the sarcasm that dripped from his tongue.  
  
"Well, you know about that one from first year," Draco dropped his gaze to the side, "and the other two were just boring, mundane things. You know, skipping Divination to settle an argument with Ron, setting Professor Flitwick on fire."  
  
Draco's eyebrow's looked like they might get lost in his hairline. "On* fire!?*"  
  
"It was an accident!" Harry protested, but couldn't help grinning a little. "He was okay, a little singed though."  
  
Draco couldn't hold it in. The image of a surprised, scorched dwarf for a Charms teacher had him cackling with helpless, and a little malicious laughter. He then made Harry tell him the entire story of how it happened, inserting a few chuckles and commenting every now and then, making Harry return laughter. As the two conversed, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that maybe Malfoy wasn't a complete bastard after all. A comfortable pause in the dialogue let Harry think once again about what Professor Snape had said. Perhaps Malfoy would understand the Potion master's words more clearly.  
  
"Professor Snape said something today--" Harry began.  
  
"Yes, he has the odd way of communicating like that," Draco interjected sardonically, then looked slightly taken aback, like he couldn't stop the harsh comment from fleeing his lips before he caught it.  
  
Harry's first instinct was to volley a remark in reply, but decided that maybe there was some meaning behind all this yet to be discovered.  
  
"Wh-what I meant was, well, he said we should try to get along for a change," The raven-haired boy hazarded.  
  
Draco pulled back a little, rising up on his knees to perch on the edge of the table he had been scrubbing. Stormy eyes caught jade, and held them for a second.  
  
"Why?" He asked with a bit of suspicion.  
  
Harry could sense the other boy retreating back into a shroud of arrogance, and figured he might as well give it all up now.  
  
He acted nonchalant, muttering, "He said we might have more in common than one might think." His words were calm, but his posture was tense. He was kneeling, looking up at Malfoy with an expression of unsure curiosity.  
  
Draco looked away from Harry, thinking about what Potter had said. He locked gazes with the boy again, his emotions completely flat and unreadable.  
  
"What's to compare? We play Quidditch, we're fiercely competitive, and we can't stand each other. That's it." And with that, Draco went back to scrubbing the last table.  
  
For just a few fleeting minutes, both boys had been completely comfortable with each other, defenses lowered just enough to communicate and (God forbid) enjoy the other's company. Harry was almost disappointed it had gone as quickly as it came.  
  
"Well, Snape said to at least manage not to kill each other," Harry shrugged and dunked his forgotten brush back into the cauldron.  
  
Draco still had a faraway, clouded look in his eyes. He slowed his scrubbing rhythm ever so slightly and replied without looking at Harry.  
  
"We aren't killing each other now."  
  
Harry ventured one more step, knowing this could hurt the next day, but wanting to be completely honest, for once, with his greatest rival.  
  
"I don't mind it much."  
  
Now Draco did look at him, his eyes two splintered mirrors piercing through every mask, every façade the both of them put up to the world. And within a heartbeat, the walls were up again, his hands scrubbing and his expression haughty.  
  
"Don't get used to it Potter. Even with ten thousand detentions, I'd still hate you," He said in a low voice.  
  
The clock suspended over Snape's desk struck seven, and both boys threw their brushes into the cauldron to stand in the hall, surveying a now sparkling clean dungeon. Or rather, as close to sparkling as it was ever going to get.  
  
"Well, uh, I better get going. Uh, Good night?" Harry's look was pained, "Err, bye." He turned and fled up the stairs, towards Gryffindor Tower, back to where dim torchlight and cold dungeons didn't skew everything out of proportion. Where you didn't have conversations with the enemy. Back to where it was safe.  
  
Draco stood alone in the flickering torchlight, shadows dancing across his features and through his thoughts. Potter wasn't so bad, really. But. he was still Potter. His palms were damp, and try as he might to dismiss it as cauldron-water; he knew that something about Harry Potter made him distinctly nervous.  
  
//Malfoys don't feel this way.// He insisted. // They just don't do this.* I* don't do this! Tomorrow is another day. Just like all the others.//  
  
And tomorrow would be another day, but days are like snowflakes. No two are ever quite the same. 


	2. Stars, Hide your fires

Weeping willow, chapter 2.  
  
By Dreamsplinter.  
  
Rating: PG, for now.  
  
Warning: Slashed like Ron's drapes in the Prisoner Of Azkaban.  
  
Length: 2 of quite a few.  
  
Author's Note: Slightly darker than the first chapter, but rather important for the next. Thanks to all the reviewers out there! You guys make writing all the more worthwhile.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter 2 iStars, hide your fires;  
  
Let not light see my black and deep desiresi  
  
- - Macbeth  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Three AM.  
  
Cold moonlight slanted through the windows of Griffindor Tower, reflecting off the glasses of one Harry Potter slouched on the windowsill. Three days had passed since the notorious Potter-Malfoy detention, though the entire school seemed intent on making the biggest fuss they could about it.  
  
But gossip was the farthest thing from Harry's mind at that moment. He had been robbed of sleep for nearly a week by nightmares, and that night had been a regular hell. Twisted, demented images of Voldemort's face, his parent's death, Cedric's lifeless body, snakes and fire floated in his mind through a foggy haze. And the screaming. That was the worst part of all. His head was still ringing for those terrible cries, though they were no more than a memory now.  
  
He shifted off of the sill and padded over to his four-poster, eyeing Ron's snoring form with envy. Sleep was out of the question, but there were plenty of other things that could occupy the time of a raging insomniac. He shuffled around under his bed in search of the Invisibility Cloak, and ignoring his lack of footwear or proper clothing completely, he walked out the portrait hole and out into the halls of Hogwarts.  
  
Harry let his mind wander and his legs carry him wherever they pleased. Leaving the dormitories helped clear his brain, and he was freer to think of pleasant things. He wondered how Sirius was doing, what tomorrow would hold, how the upcoming Quidditch game would turn out, and on and on. He found himself climbing the spiral stairs to the Astronomy Tower, and vaguely considered bunking down on one of the couches in there, as he was starting to feel a little fatigued again.  
  
He continued up the stairs until a small, insistent sound caught his attention. A soft tapping echoed through the spiral stairway.  
  
*Thump, thump. Thump thump. *  
  
Harry froze, poised on the next step. He backed against the wall that would be the outside of the tower, his wand already out. The noise came again, muffled thumps, two in a row like a heartbeat from deep within the tower, this time in a constant rhythm. He stepped up one stair, and the noise ceased. His feet touched the previous stair, and the noise returned. The next stair down had the same effect. He could only hear the thumping when standing on that particular step.  
  
Harry leaned in towards the inner wall, his wand held before his face. He tapped a stone with his wand tip, and nearly fell back in shock when a shimmer of blue light rippled across the surface of the stone where he touched it. The light spread outwards and settled into an outline of a rectangle whose side lines ran down to connect with the stair.  
  
The thumping increased in volume.  
  
Harry placed a tentative hand on the glowing blue rectangle, and with just a light push, the outlined block slid backwards and sideways into the darkness, revealing a narrow hole in the wall.  
  
Like Neo in the Matrix, all Harry could think was, //Whoa.//  
  
Tucking the Invisibility Cloak around him, Harry wriggled sideways through the opening to find himself in a spacious, but dimly lit passageway.  
  
"Lumos," He murmured, and started down the tunnel, his feet cold on the stones. A solid oak door loomed in his sight, left slightly open by whoever (or whatever) had last been there. Harry's heart seemed to be trying to flee his ribcage as he peered around the doorjamb, extinguishing his wand light. A strange sight met his eyes.  
  
It was a large, circular room with no windows save a skylight nearly five stories up at the top of the tower. Warm candlelight soaked into burgundy rugs and furnishings, and shed light on the best thing about the room. The walls were shelved all the way to the ceiling with books. An entire section of a secret library tucked into the center of the Astronomy Tower, with two platforms on vertical tracks set into the wall for the apparent reason of getting a person to volumes on higher shelves. The thumping had stopped for a few moments, and Harry pushed into the room.  
  
It was there he saw the person he would have least expected to run across at this time of night.  
  
//Malfoy?!//  
  
The blond boy was perched on one of the moving platforms by the bookcases, holding something in his fist.  
  
At this moment of realization, a dark blue blur, about the size of a golf ball hurtled out of the darkness and collided into Harry's temple, knocking him onto the ground and out of consciousness.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Harry swam upwards through murky, shifting sensations and opened his eyes cautiously. The room was a warm maroon haze due to the apparent fact that his glasses had flown off. He rolled over and searched blindly for his missing eyewear. A voice stopped him abruptly.  
  
"Were you following me, Potter?" came the familiar sneer.  
  
Harry groaned and shifted to his knees, squinting to see Malfoy standing over him. His head throbbed with every move and his words were sluggish.  
  
"Wha- what the heck did you do to me?" He slurred.  
  
"You haven't answered my question. And I didn't do it on purpose. After all I couldn't see you," Draco replied with a shrug, and bounced a dark blue racquetball idly against the floor.  
  
//Ah, hence the thumping noise.// Thought Harry. He gathered this was also what had laid him low when he entered the room.  
  
Harry struggled to his feet, reeling a little as the room spun. The Invisibility Cloak slid to the floor while Harry tried to focus on the angry Slytherin. "What is this place?"  
  
"I found it during third year. Great for being alone, unless buffoons like you happen to stumble onto it. Or, follow you into it," Draco added with a hiss.  
  
"Look, I didn't follow you here. I just, kind of--"  
  
"Decided to spy on someone who obviously wants to be left alone?" Draco offered sarcastically. He picked up Harry's glasses from the desk near him and turned them over in his hands idly.  
  
"No. I just found the door, alright? And I'd appreciate my glasses back, please."  
  
Harry hated how pitiful he sounded, but there wasn't much helping it. But surprisingly, Draco walked over to him, and held out his glasses at arms distance. Harry hesitated before accepting them, but quickly rammed them onto his face. The two boys faced each other in a silence which could be described as "awkward" at best. Harry rubbed the back of his neck, and studied his bare toes.  
  
"Uh, I guess I should be going, or something," He tired to be casual, and failed.  
  
Draco couldn't help but smirk a little at the other boy's ungainliness. "So since you're here, maybe you'd like to enlighten me as to why you've decided to pay a visit?" He questioned.  
  
"I --I couldn't sleep." Harry said.  
  
"That's it?" Draco seemed almost amused. He placed a hand on the desk, causing a loose parchment to flutter from its surface and land at Harry's feet. Naturally, the other boy stooped to pick it up.  
  
"What's this-?" Harry began.  
  
Draco's eyes widened in horror. "Nothing, Potter. At least, nothing quite comprehensible to you." He added icily, striding over and snatching the parchment back.  
  
"Looks like a letter," Harry raised one eyebrow. "A letter you couldn't read over the breakfast table?"  
  
" I'll thank you to stop playing nanny for me. Personal business should stay that way," He replied with a sidestep.  
  
Harry tensed a little. After all, if it was personal, then he didn't really have the right to go barging in. "Er, sorry then." Without thinking, a thought flew from Harry's lips.  
  
"I saw you in the lake the other day," He blurted.  
  
"And couldn't help staring, could you?" Draco's voice was a little colder than a tease.  
  
"No! I mean, you were- I was just wondering- No.," Harry broke off, looking rather pained.  
  
"You mean you wanted to know why?" Draco suggested.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Draco shrugged, and set the parchment that he had been tightly clutching back on the desk. "Why not? It keeps me in shape, and isn't such a bad skill to have."  
  
Harry scoffed, "Not that you'd need any extra exercise!"  
  
"Been checking me out?" Draco asked sardonically.  
  
"I meant since you do Quidditch." Harry was ready for him this time.  
  
"Of course," Draco replied coolly, "But it never hurts to have a bit of an edge over the enemy."  
  
"Hah! You'll never be on any sort of edge, Malfoy. Unless you mean a cliff's edge and plan to do us all a favor."  
  
"We'll see about that in the Quidditch game tomorrow," Draco's voice held a good measure of intensity.  
  
Harry seemed to relax into the familiar volley of insults. "I'm sure we will. But if either of us is to do any good tomorrow we should sleep." He started for the door, the paused, looking back at Draco.  
  
"Well, for crying out loud Potter, you know the way out. And I'm not about to walk you back to your dormitory." Draco said.  
  
Harry looked surprised for a millisecond, then resumed his nonchalant attitude, saying, "I never once expected you to. Just get some rest. When I beat you tomorrow, it should at least be a fair win."  
  
With that, he exited and shut the door firmly behind him.  
  
Draco stood wavering for a few seconds after he left, then collapsed into a nearby armchair.  
  
//Oh God, what if Potter had read that letter?// Draco raked nervous fingers through his hair. He leaned over and picked up the parchment off the desk, reading it again. He drew his wand slowly from the folds of his robes, and whispering a spell set the frail document ablaze. He let it smolder gently on the desk and crossed to one of the moving platforms attached to the wall. He let it rush past five stories all the way to the top of the tower to hover beneath a large skylight.  
  
Draco stared upwards out the window, wishing he could disappear for a while. The Quidditch match was tomorrow, and he knew quite well what Lucius had asked, nay, commanded that he do. Not only did he have to win, oh no. He had another mission tomorrow, but not one that he wanted to carry out.  
  
He reached into his pocket for the parchment that had come with the letter.  
  
//a tracking spell. Very subtle, excruciatingly complex.//  
  
Draco had to marvel at his father's skill with magic. Such a spell could monitor every detail about a person, even their emotions, without being noticed. Such a spell could give anyone gradual control over said person, and eventually opportunity to have them conveniently disappear. Here Draco frowned. This was * not* his job. He had always followed his father's directions before, but this time something held him back. He didn't want to do Daddy's gruntwork. It would have been so easy to nail Potter with the spell as he lay comatose on the floor, yet Draco had stayed his hand.  
  
It just wouldn't have seemed *right. * Not that morals had ever stopped him before.  
  
Draco pulled a book off a nearby shelf and slowly tore the first page out, as if to prove to himself just how bad he was. But now he had been sent like hell's missionary to perform another rite for all that is Dark and Unholy, and he didn't want to. He was a Malfoy, dammit! Malfoys don't piddle around when there's work to be done. He unconsciously tore the page into increasingly smaller pieces, becoming steadily more angry. Whatever it was that was making him feel so merciful towards Potter would have to fix itself. But the annoying part of his brain that was usually right kept insisting that maybe there was more to Harry Potter than it seemed. He remembered their detention together, and how easy it was to let his guard slide down. He felt a twinge of nervousness in his fingertips, and tried to banish the thought of Potter lying on the floor of this very room, defenseless as a newborn, hair in his eyes and a bruise on his temple. This was exactly the sort of thought that should have made Draco crow with triumph; but now he only felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, like he had destroyed something beautiful.  
  
Beautiful? //Teenage boys are not beautiful. Period.// Draco thought with a shake of his head. It was almost like for a moment, he had cared for him. Cared! Ridiculous. That sap deserved everything he got, walking in and acting like he owned the place. He looked at the spell again, and put it back in his pocket, resolving himself for the day ahead.  
  
//Family before feelings,// Draco thought grimly, and tapped the side of the platform twice, signaling it to return to ground level.  
  
During his return trip to the floor, he decided to catch a few hours of sleep in the tower rather than go back to Slytherin, and was just about to settle into a large armchair when he noticed something wadded up next to the desk. Potter's Invisibility Cloak. He walked over and picked up the cloak, which was surprisingly lightweight for its size. Honestly, Potter. You're determined to make this difficult, aren't you? Draco tried not to think any more of it, and settled down to go to sleep, unconsciously wrapping the cloak around him. It was a cold night, after all. 


	3. Misshapen chaos, wellseeming forms

Weeping Willow, chapter 3,  
  
By Dreamsplinter  
  
Rated PG  
  
*Warning! * Thar be slashfiction here'bouts. Yarrrr.  
  
Summary: The obligatory Quidditch match, with a twist. W00t.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Why then, O brawling love,  
  
O loving hate,  
  
O everything of nothing first create  
  
Heavy lightness,  
  
Serious vanity  
  
Misshapen chaos in well seeming forms.  
  
Ay me, sad hours seem long."  
  
--Romeo  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"All ready for the match today, Harry?" Ron whispered, positively overflowing with excitement.  
  
Harry eyed the fat droplets of rain hammering the window of the Arithmancy classroom, and grimaced. "What's the matter with this picture? It was perfectly fine yesterday, and today it's raining to give Noah and encore."  
  
Seamus Finnigan looked up from his book and gave Harry a funny look.  
  
"Who's Noah?" He asked quizzically.  
  
"Oh, right. Some guy with a boat, saved all the animals from drowning when the earth flooded for forty days," Harry replied.  
  
Blank stare. "Man, and I thought wizards had some odd stories-" Seamus trailed off and looked back at Professor Vector, who was explaining the inverse of a matrix on the board.  
  
Harry tried to concentrate, but his eyelids kept drooping. Before he knew what was happening, he had his head down on the desk and the classroom became a pleasant buzz in the background. Colors and shapes blurred together into the first solid sleep he had enjoyed in almost a week.  
  
He was flying. The horizon was a fiery blaze of crimson and orange with a dying sun warming his face and hands. Cool breezes whispered across the Quidditch pitch, as he sketched lazy circles in the sky. He relaxed in the air's embrace, and suddenly he wasn't alone. He looked over his right shoulder to find Draco Malfoy flying beside him, smiling and laughing. A dull surprised feeling crept through his sleep-muddled brain, but after a few minutes he didn't care much anymore. He and Draco flew together for what seemed like hours, each in perfect time with another, not speaking a word but not really needing to. Harry slowed down near to the ground, and tumbled off his broom, staring up at the sky between tall blades of grass. He felt Draco fall down near him, and the world shrank into one point of feeling. Draco's fingertips tracing light patterns on his forearm, Draco's breath hot in his ear, murmuring his name. Harry, Harry.  
  
"Harry? HARRY!"  
  
He jolted out of the dream with a yelp, and fell out of his chair in an excellent display of classic Potter grace. "RON! What!?"  
  
Ron looked at him like he'd sprouted another arm. "Are you okay? Class is over. You have to go get ready for the game, remember? And what're you doing on the floor?"  
  
"You scared me! Gees. Can't a guy get some sleep around here?"  
  
Ron looked at him quizzically, an expression that was becoming more frequent from various people. "Right. Are you sure you're okay?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine."  
  
//What the bloody hell was that about? // Harry tried to clear his thoughts as he gathered his books. Ron was happily chatting about the upcoming match, going over strategies and game plays, so it wasn't too hard to tune him out. //I just had a dream about Malfoy. What the hell!?! Jesus H. Christ. Note to self: Lack of sleep makes one delusional and/or insane. //  
  
But he couldn't ignore the somersaults his stomach was performing, just at the thought of Draco's touch. //Disgust, that's what it is. Never said anything about not being disgusted, right? //  
  
//This is going to be quite an interesting day. //  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Draco was ready to tear the walls down. As Divination crept by, he had an increasing urge to pick up Professor Trelawney and pitch her out the loft window. It wasn't that he was bored exactly; just that everything that seemed worth doing wasn't really worth it after all. He could flick paper wads at Pansy, or talk to Crabbe and Goyle about Quidditch or something, but nothing seemed worth the effort. He didn't even want to think about anything, since everything seemed to lead back to Harry Potter. And that train of thought was not one he wanted to pursue at the moment. Caught between going to one extreme or the other, he resolved himself to actually doing the assignment.  
  
Goyle poked him in the ribs when he completely missed the bell.  
  
"Draco? We gotta go. Quidditch. That's homework," He said. Goyle didn't seem capable of a sentence much longer than three or four words on a good day, so today must be one of the better ones.  
  
A tiny sigh escaped Draco as he shoved his books hastily into his bag. There was a Quidditch game to be won, but he couldn't seem to focus. He reached into his pocket for the parchment that held his father's spell, clutching it like a security blanket.  
  
"Don't wait up for me, guys," He told his cronies as they shuffled down out the trapdoor.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Madame Hooch's voice was nearly drowned out by the drumming of rain, as she warned the teams huddled around her about the high winds.  
  
"I want you to stay low as you can, because the crosswinds really pick up once you get much higher than six or seven stories!" She yelled over the pounding rain, "Captains, shake hands please." Harry and Draco complied with curt stiffness. "Players, mount your brooms!"  
  
The respective Gryffindor and Slytherin house teams crossed back through the mud to their broomsticks and swung up into places. Harry sent a glance in Draco's direction, only to find the blond boy glaring at him with smoldering intensity. Harry gave a bloodthirsty smile. //This is it Malfoy. No more of this pansy playing around. Game time. // With that last though, Madame Hooch's whistle shrilled over the cheering crowds, and the game began.  
  
Corey Spatter, a brand new fourth year player for Gryffindor took the Quaffle right off the bat. Both teams scattered, and Corey went zipping down the field. The other two Gryffindor seekers preceded her on either side. Miranda Bell dropped low to receive Corey's pass just as Clayton Grant, a burly fifth year chaser on Slytherin, cut Corey off. Miranda nimbly avoided the bludger that Crabbe blasted at her, and shot forward towards the goal. The Slytherin keeper was nowhere near Miranda as she lofted the Quaffle in for the first goal.  
  
It was impossible to hear Seamus' commentary over the roar of cheering from Gryffindor's stands, and even harder due to loud booing from the Slytherin end.  
  
Harry circled the pitch, squinting to see through the downpour and monitor where his players were. He could barely make out shapes and colors, much less minute details like the Golden Snitch.  
  
Draco was on the other side of the field, apparently doing the same thing. The Slytherins erupted in cheers as Blaise Zabini scored a hard earned goal, and Harry flew a loop to let out some of his anxiety. His hands were starting to stiffen up in the cold, but he didn't dare let go of his broom to warm them up, as the winds were beginning to pick up.  
  
Goyle caught a loose bludger and smacked it as hard as he could, aiming for Miranda who was busy chasing after Blaise. Harry yelled at her to move, but his voice was drowned out by a loud clap of thunder. Harry closed his eyes, expecting the worst, but as luck would have it, Natalie Mc Donald popped up from under her and clouted the bludger before Miranda could even take notice of it. Natalie grinned up at Harry, who beamed in return. Something hummed in the back of his head, and Harry instinctively ducked, watching in amazement at the bludger that zoomed past where his face had been just moments before. Crabbe was just a few lengths down the field, and though Harry couldn't see his expression, he knew that oaf was smirking.  
  
Miranda scored again, and while the Gryffindors were still screaming, the Slytherin team called a time out. Harry's team huddled together, and he soon found out that the game wasn't going quite as well as it seemed. The Slytherins had been able to get away with twice as much foul play due to poor visibility, and Corey was nursing a rather bruised left elbow.  
  
"Corey, can you still play?" Harry asked.  
  
"Ja, it just hurts a little. Damn Zabini thought he'd use me as a human shield whilst Goyle had a target practice," she answered in a lilting Swedish accent, "Ah only got clipped."  
  
Harry bit his lip. The two other chasers, Miranda and a third year named Alex Trask would be Slytherin's next targets. "Miranda, Alex, I want you two to watch for those beaters. They're going to try to box you guys in and stuff you with a bludger. They're getting desperate, so they're going to get more aggressive. You know how it goes. Keep moving, don't let 'em corner you."  
  
They both nodded.  
  
Madame Hooch's whistle shrieked over the noise of the rain, and play resumed. Harry wasn't mistaken in his speculation of a more aggressive game; the Slytherins were twice as dirty as they were before.  
  
Clayton Grant grabbed Miranda's broomstick and wrenched it sideways and when foul was called he claimed it was only to get the Quaffle. Miranda put the penalty shot away easily, and the score sat comfortably at thirty- nothing. Harry smiled through chattering teeth, and scanned the field for the snitch.  
  
Then it happened. Just as Harry had feared, Blaise, Clayton and Slytherin's third seeker Connor Montague had flanked Miranda. Corey and Alex had been trailing behind her when Alex had to make a sudden dodge to avoid a bludger and accidentally ran into Corey, slowing both of them down. Now all three Slytherin chasers had boxed in Miranda, and Harry briefly caught sight of Goyle taking aim for a bludger before-  
  
* CRACK *  
  
Goyle slammed the bludger with all the force his bulky body possessed and sent it hurtling towards Miranda, just as Blaise dropped into her path from the front, forcing her to swerve upwards and-straight into the oncoming bludger.  
  
The sound of Miranda's collarbone snapping echoed even through the muffling of the rain. She sank to the ground and lost consciousness as students and staff members swarmed around her.  
  
Harry saw red. He shot off after Malfoy, and screeched to a halt in front of him. The rest of the players kept on, but now with Slytherin at a distinct advantage.  
  
"You told them to do that! Didn't you?!" Harry yelled, raindrops scattering from his hair as he gestured violently.  
  
"I got rid of a problem Potter! That's competition, that's Quidditch, that's life!" Malfoy spat, reaching into his robes for his wand. Now would be the perfect opportunity, while nobody would notice, to cast the spell and be through with it.  
  
"You don't cheat in life to win, Malfoy!"  
  
Draco stopped. He trained every ounce of willpower he could to make himself * cast * that* spell*  
  
But he couldn't do it.  
  
Just then, he saw a shimmer of gold through the rain. The snitch! It hovered right behind Harry's head, and Draco was suddenly speechless.  
  
"What the hell's wrong with you, Malfoy? What are you-" He stopped and noticed the snitch just as it zipped out of the way and straight upwards.  
  
Malfoy was already after it, flying directly upwards into the near hail. Lightning laced across the sky, illuminating the tiny speck of gold. Draco anticipated its every move, concentrating intensely. Harry had a short opportunity to marvel at Draco's skill on a broomstick, and the two boys were nearly at equal distance from the snitch- when a well-placed bludger came flying out of practically nowhere and hit Harry square on his left hand. He yelled and took the injured hand off his broom.  
  
Big mistake. The high winds seven stories above the Quidditch pitch lurched Harry off balance, so he was hanging half off his broom. Draco was several feet above him, laughing in triumph, the snitch clasped in his hand.  
  
//oh no, // Harry thought, and the wind took a sudden shift downwards. Harry looked down and was overwhelmed by vertigo. The pitch was about the size of his four-poster bed from here, and through the rain he couldn't even see the rest of the students. He tried to grab his broomstick again, but a blinding flash of pain seared up his arm and went straight into his head. The wind was moving more quickly now, and Harry was now falling much faster than he liked to be going without any control. Not to mention heading away from the Quidditch pitch. The ground seemed to be approaching very quickly, but he couldn't figure out why, because he was still on his broom. He thought he heard people screaming, but couldn't tell over the roar in his ears and the clash of thunder. The wind swept him down away from the field-  
  
And over the lake.  
  
The storm whipped up white frothy waves on its surface, making it look like a many-toothed animal. Harry could feel himself blacking out, and tried his best to get closer to ground; only the ground he went for wasn't solid. He felt the broomstick slip from his grasp, and the last conscious thought that entered his mind was,  
  
// I don't have gills this time. //  
  
Then everything went dark.  
  
Draco had been enjoying his triumph a minute too long when he noticed that Harry was no longer directly beneath him. He glanced down, and there was the other boy, moving rapidly and erratically off the Quidditch pitch. Draco didn't quite comprehend what had happened for a minute, but then it dawned on him that Potter was in serious trouble. Everything in his body screamed at him to help Harry, but the spell in his pocket seemed to burn through to his skin.  
  
//why not just let him get whatever's coming to him? // Draco rationalized, the snitch cold in his hand. He could save everyone a lot of trouble, and maybe put his biggest rival out of commission for a while.  
  
Then he saw Harry plummet into the lake.  
  
There was nothing on earth that flew faster than Draco Malfoy that day. He bolted down along the slope towards the lake, his eye never leaving the spot where Harry fell. He didn't even slow down to get a good dive off his broom. He hit the water with a smack, and desperately pulled off his extra clothing to search for the fallen boy. The water pressed in on his eyes, black as tar and seemingly just as thick. A flash of lightning sent fractals of light through the water, and Draco caught sight of Harry, beneath him like a floating ghost. //so far down// Draco thought with a twinge of panic. He gulped a breath of air, and plunged under.  
  
The darkness of the lake closed around him like a malicious cloak, and Draco almost cried out in fear when he contacted something solid. Harry. Draco grabbed for Harry's clothing, and took a mighty push off the lakebed. His lungs were near to bursting, and his heartbeat hammered in his ears. Harry was * heavy*, Draco realized.  
  
//I am not going to drown saving Harry Potter. This is not going to be the end. //  
  
He could see a flicker of lightning at the surface of the lake, and kicked harder. He felt himself slowing down, but was determined not to stop. Not when the surface was so close. His legs seemed to be made of lead, and Potter's skin felt like ice under his fingers. He broke the surface of the water and swallowed a huge gulp of air before Harry's weight dragged him under again.  
  
//Come on, not now. // Draco swiftly freed Harry from all his unnecessary clothing and hauled his head above water. The windswept waves gave them both a momentum towards the shore, but also pushed them under repeatedly. Draco crossed his right arm over Harry's chest, and kicked towards shore. He glanced at the mass of people headed in their direction, then at Harry. The dark haired boy was nearly a transparent white, and his lips were bluish.  
  
//Oh God Harry, don't die on me. // Draco thought of all the trouble he had gotten into with Harry, all the ways Harry annoyed him, and made him angry, and made him rise to a challenge. Without Harry, there was nothing to strive for, nothing to measure up to, nothing to compete against. He realized that he *needed * Harry.  
  
If Harry died-  
  
Draco didn't have any more time to think as his feet touched bottom, and he dragged Harry onto the shore. It seemed like all of Hogwarts was running from the Quidditch pitch to the lakeside, but they'd never make it in time. Who knows how long Harry had gone without air?  
  
Draco kneeled by his rival, and without even a pause in his movement-did the unthinkable. He pinched the other boy's nose shut, sealed his lips over Harry's, and exhaled. Once. Twice. Three times. Harry's chest rose and fell in time with their shared breathing, but his lips were so *cold *. The back of Draco's eyes started to burn with something almost like tears. His breaths became shaky, but he didn't stop.  
  
Harry opened his eyes. And for a moment, nothing on the entire planet moved. Time stopped in its tracks, and Harry looked up to find Draco's mouth covering his, in the sweetest feeling of completion he had ever known.  
  
Then he realized he was in a liplock with his worst enemy, and flipped out. He coughed water violently into Draco's mouth, making the other boy break away, spluttering and gagging. Harry pushed himself up, but completely forgot that his hand was broken and collapsed back onto the sand in pain. The staff and students were nearly upon them now, bearing a stretcher and blankets. Harry and Draco didn't move. They stared at each other, not knowing what to say or what to feel. Draco's lips were tingling, and he touched cautious fingertips to them unconsciously. Harry could do nothing more than stare as students and teachers hoisted him onto a stretcher and threw blankets over him. Draco just sat on the sand, even while people put a blanket over him, asked him if he was hurt, and tried to lift him up to go indoors. He got up after a few tugs, but everything was a wide swirling sea of color and noise. And in the middle of riot was a pair of emerald eyes.  
  
//Harry's okay. Harry's safe. // Was the only thought on Draco's mind as he was herded up to the infirmary. That and,  
  
//I just called him Harry. // 


	4. Embers and envelopes

Weeping willow, chapter 4. {Embers and Envelopes}  
  
By DS  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Obligatory Warning: Slash. And oh how we love that slashy goodness.  
  
Disclaimer: Characters not mine. J.K. Rowling's. Don't sue. Me Tarzan. You Jane.  
  
Summary: So they realize. Let there be love! -Maybe.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"My only love sprung from my only hate!  
  
Too early seen unknown, and known too late.  
  
Prodigious birth of love it is to me,  
  
That I must love a loathed enemy."  
  
-Juilet, act 1, scene 6.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Hermione Granger paced outside the infirmary door, gnawing a fingernail. Mentally she flinched as she bit a tiny piece of skin, but then again, there were more important things than pretty fingernails anyway. Ron seemed intent on finding a flaw in the ceiling structure, and she contemplated conversation but couldn't think of anything to say.  
  
The pair had spent the past hour or so arguing about the Quidditch game, trying to decipher the day's events, begging Madame Pomfrey to let them in to visit Harry, and basically working themselves into frenzy.  
  
It just didn't make sense. One doesn't go from sinner to saint in the span of five minutes. Ron insisted that Malfoy was up to something. He had to be. Yet a thought in the back of Hermione's brain kept poking her in an odd way, and try as she might to dismiss the idea, it kept coming back.  
  
"What if Draco didn't have an ulterior motive?" She thought aloud.  
  
"Huh?" Ron looked at her.  
  
She lapsed back into thought, and before a response could be formed, Madam Pomfrey opened the door and shooed them away to their dormitories, saying,  
  
"Harry's just fallen back asleep. You'll have to come see him tomorrow. Poor dear, he must have a record for most time spent here."  
  
Hermione managed a smile and followed Ron out the door. Apparently questions would have to wait until later.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Draco woke with a start. Pale moonlight washed over his hospital bed and dimly he remembered why he was there.  
  
Harry.  
  
Without thinking, his eyes raked over the room until they fell on a tousled mop of hair in the corner that could only be a Potter. Draco was nearly overwhelmed by emotions just looking at him. Confusion blurred with animosity and compassion, blanketed by a healthy layer of -could that be, affection?  
  
No.  
  
Not a chance in hell.  
  
Draco scrunched his eyes shut and shook his head. He tried to convince himself that Madame Pomfrey had slipped a little something extra into that warming serum, but when he thought back on the day's events-  
  
He couldn't find a single regret.  
  
Draco collapsed back onto his pillow with a soft 'flump'. The clock over his bed seemed unnaturally loud as he tried to pull his thoughts together. Tick. Tick. Tick. Damn the stupid clock. He glanced over at Harry, who turned over in a fitful dream. Was it possible to care for someone who you hated so much? He recalled the utter rejection Harry had thrown at him at their first meeting, and remembered where the hate had come from. That was so long ago. It wasn't Draco's style to let things go easily, but he couldn't help but wonder what might have happened if that original rejection had been acceptance. Scenes that had never happened flickered through his mind: Harry and him laughing together, Harry and him studying in the library with heads bent close together, Harry and him spending hours talking late at night- All the lost possibilities and roads untaken.  
  
He rolled towards over and stared out the window, brooding. He was so engulfed in his reverie that he didn't notice any movement in the room until it was nearly upon him.  
  
"D-Draco?"  
  
Draco sat bolt upright to find himself nose-to-nose with the subject of his musings: Harry Potter. Of course. Golden Boy just has to wake up *now *. He swallowed and tried not to look Harry in the eyes as he searched for words. Useless. Jade swallowed silver and Draco found himself pleasantly speechless.  
  
"Hello, Potter," was the best he could manage.  
  
Harry pulled back and seemed as lost for words as Draco.  
  
//Pull yourself together, Malfoy! // Draco straightened up and questioned, "Shouldn't you be asleep? Your wounded pride is surely in need of recovery."  
  
"Wounded-what? Oh. That. Well, I mean, you won fair enough, right? Not much I can do about it now." Harry told his toes.  
  
This came as a surprise to Draco. Potter, admitting defeat? He must have a lot of water in his ears or something. Try as he might, he had no way to respond to this open honesty.  
  
Harry filled in for him, though not quite in the way he had hoped. "Uh, I was just wondering-Why-Uh, I mean, what happened there?"  
  
Draco found himself saying exactly what he didn't mean to say.  
  
"I jumped in after you."  
  
"*You* pulled me out?!"  
  
The blonde boy turned a glare on him. "No need to act so surprised, Potter. Slytherin's victory might have been forfeited if you had died or something," Draco replied, trying to sound harsh.  
  
Harry wasn't fooled. He sat on the bed and peered at Draco. "You saved my life."  
  
Draco turned towards the window nervously, "Just go back to your bed, before you make me wish I hadn't."  
  
Harry didn't move for a second, and Draco made the fatal mistake of looking at him. Harry caught his stare and touched him lightly on the sleeve.  
  
"Thank you. I owe you one," he said.  
  
Draco was painfully aware of Harry's hand on his arm, and searched for a reply.  
  
"You're welcome." Draco couldn't believe his own ears, but decided to ask questions later.  
  
"You didn't have to do that, you know."  
  
"Of-of course I didn't. I never do anything against my will, you should know that." Grey eyes dropped to the side.  
  
"So why bother to save your enemy?" Harry raised one quizzical brow.  
  
Draco met his gaze and allowed himself a tiny smirk. "I've spent too much time on hating you to have all that effort put out for nothing."  
  
The corner of Harry's lips quirked upwards into a half-smile. "Why bother with hating me then?"  
  
Silence filled the fracture in conversation, and the boys seemed about ready to start another staring contest, when Madame Pomfrey made an extraordinary entrance with a beaker of vile green potion in each hand.  
  
"Boys! What is going on here? Harry, why are you out of bed?" she set down the glasses and felt Harry's forehead.  
  
"Oh, nothing Madame Pomfrey. Draco just had a nightmare so I came over and woke him up."  
  
Draco was amazed at the fluidity of this lie. The nurse handed him one of the foul-smelling beakers and ushered Harry back to bed, telling him how he needed to give his hand time to heal. Draco's eyes never left Harry's, even as the well-meaning woman drew a curtain around each of them.  
  
"I want you two to stay out of trouble," she scolded, and left so they could have some peace. The potion was a thick, sticky brew, but it succeeded in putting Draco into a deep, dreamless sleep.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Well, boys, you seem well enough to go back to your regular classes. How does your wrist feel, Harry?" Madame Pomfrey was a solid pillar of scrutiny as she appraised the two patients in front of her.  
  
Harry flexed his wrist and flashed a smile bright enough to rival the sunlight outside the window.  
  
"Okay, I'd rather not see either of you for at least a month, though I doubt that's going to happen," She said with a wry smile.  
  
"Thank you, ma'am." The boys chorused and headed out the door.  
  
Madame Pomfrey watched them out, shaking her head and chuckling to herself. She could see what was happening, plain as day. The only question in her mind was when they would figure it out for themselves.  
  
Harry watched Draco out of the corner of his eye, noting how the other boy was consciously avoiding his gaze, his face a mask of indifference. Their footsteps echoed down the hall in an unbroken rhythm until Harry decided to break the tension.  
  
"You planning on becoming a monk or something?" He prodded.  
  
"What is that supposed to mean?" Draco answered, staring straight ahead.  
  
"Aha! Sir Malfoy breaks his vow of silence!" Harry said jovially, grinning. When Draco didn't answer, Harry's grin faded. He couldn't figure out why Draco wasn't rising up to start another round of insults. In fact, the Slytherin seemed almost subdued.  
  
//He did save my life. That's probably going to eat him up for a while, prideful wretch. I don't know why he did it, but it's got to be something more than the Quidditch game. // Harry gave Draco the warmest smile he could, thinking //Maybe there's more to Malfoy than we thought. //  
  
"Potter. Just because I did you a, --favor or something," Draco paused, "This doesn't mean that we are friends. You don't owe me anything, so don't try to be nice to me or something, okay?"  
  
Harry was shocked. The enemy status didn't surprise him much, but what Draco had said about not owing anything-that was distinctly un-Draco. Harry inwardly cursed as the doors to the Great Hall loomed in his sight. There was no time to discuss, no time to think. Draco looked almost relieved as a flood of students swamped them; all asking questions at once like paparazzi. Harry found himself swept to The Gryffindor breakfast table by confused, outraged students while Draco was pulled away by cheering Slytherins. Harry watched as Draco stepped back into his old skin, grinning and sneering as the Slytherin clan congratulated him on a crushing victory. For some reason, Harry felt a twinge of sadness as he watched Draco go through his act of playing the ever-haughty Malfoy.  
  
Seamus brought him back to reality (and back to the small mob of Gryffindors surrounding the table) by yelling, " Oy! Harry! Are you gonna demand a rematch?"  
  
Harry blinked, and his voice was lost under the chattering of the group. He looked at Ron and Hermione pleadingly, so Ron took initiative and jumped up on the table.  
  
In a voice that might have been mistaken for a sonorous charm, he growled, "Okay, folks! I don't know what went on in the lake, or the game. And I don't think Harry knows much about why or when or who either. He was unconscious, right? There *might * be a rematch. And no, Harry doesn't plan on any sort of revenge just yet. So do him a favor, and bugger off!"  
  
The students settled back down at the table, creating a dull roar of talk, which made a harmonious undertone to the Slytherins' bawdy cheering and song. Harry sent a thankful glance at Ron, who half-smiled in return. The trio selected a quieter end of the table and commenced to eating and blathering.  
  
"Ok Harry, you first," Hermione said, shushing Ron with a clapped hand over his mouth. He fumed, turning red and ranting behind her fingers, but she held firm.  
  
"What do you want to know first?" Harry asked.  
  
"Malfoy," Hermione said, her hand still over the mouth of a silently fuming Ron.  
  
Malfoy. Of course. The subject he was still mentally turning over himself. He sighed.  
  
"I honestly don't know. I don't know why he did it. He said it was because Slytherin could have forfeited if I'd -died or something-"  
  
Hermione looked pensive, lost in thought until Ron bit her finger fiercely. "OWWW!" She yelped, and swung at the freckled boy.  
  
"Harry!" He gasped, "He's got something up his sleeve, I know it!"  
  
Hermione looked skywards.  
  
"No, I'm serious!" He continued, "He's been watching you ever since you two had detention together!"  
  
"That's not exactly a decade, Ron," Hermione said.  
  
Harry focused on Ron like an energy beam. "What do you mean, watching me?" He asked slowly.  
  
Ron had calmed down enough to speak clearly. "I noticed him kind of glaring at you during potions the day after, which was kinda weird since he usually doesn't give a hoot in hell about us. But I noticed that he'd stare at you kind of, then frown and go back to what he was doing. He's plotting something, Harry. I know it."  
  
Hermione frowned thoughtfully, and didn't speak. Harry looked over again at the Slytherin table, where Draco was laughing and obviously re-enacting the last crucial moments of the Quidditch match. Nobody seemed to care that he had fraternized with the enemy and saved his archrival. They were all too caught up in the thrill of victory. Draco laughed along with his friends, a picture of happiness and not a little pride.  
  
Ron looked at both of his silent friends and raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Guys. Guys? 'Ey!"  
  
Harry snapped out of it and focused back on his friends. Hermione seemed to be muttering to herself about something and rummaging through her book bag. The boys both shrugged and Ron asked, "So, what happened with the match, eh?"  
  
Harry put his thoughts to the side and launched into a detailed account of what had happened nine stories above the Quidditch pitch the day before.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Draco watched Harry turn away and start talking to his two friends, gesturing animatedly. Draco answered his peers' questions with barely a thought, as all his attention was focused on a mop-topped boy across the room. Draco turned back to his posse and set his thoughts on a back burner- for now.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The day passed in a blur of questions and half answers for Harry. Potions wasn't until tomorrow, so he didn't see Draco all day. Harry bent over his Divination homework, scribbling and indexing furiously.  
  
//Pluto is in the seventh house tonight. Destiny and personal relationships collide. This means-There is an opportunity for great change because, errrrr, tomorrow the sun is rising in the twelfth house. //  
  
Harry rolled up his parchment with a sigh. He wasn't fond of making up material for assignments, but sometimes it was necessary. Figuring out the planets was easy enough, but the part of divination where one could actually tell the future quite escaped him.  
  
He drummed his fingers on the table for a while and drew lazy loops on a spare scrap of paper. He wandered up to the common room contemplating a late walk, and dug under his bed for the invisibility cloak. But his fingers met only cobwebs and the odd sock.  
  
//What the-? // Harry thought. He could have sworn he left it right--------  
  
Oh dear. He'd left it back in the hidden astronomy room, with Draco. Only one thing to do, get out and find it.  
  
Harry put on a black sweatshirt, and keeping close to the wall so as not to be noticed, slipped out into the darkness of a sleeping Hogwarts castle.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Draco put his feet up on the desk and gazed through the skylight several stories up. He had been trying to think for the past hour or so, but every thing seemed to bleed together like ink on wet paper. Wet paper, like the spell his father had given him. It had gone into the lake with him when he dove after Harry, and the writing was ruined. He picked up the now-brittle piece of parchment and stared at it, his mind working in slow, tight circles. After a long moment, he pulled his wand out of his pocket.  
  
"Incendio," He whispered, and the parchment became a merry blaze. Draco watched the embers smoldering on the desktop and looked up through the skylight again. He wasn't sure what had to be done, but action was definitely required. Harry's invisibility cloak lay heaped in an armchair, and Draco stretched out to pick it up. He let it puddle like silk into his lap, and with a decisive gesture Draco swept the ashes of his father's spell into an envelope and strode out of the room.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Harry padded swiftly down the halls, trying to reach the astronomy Tower in the fastest time possible. Watching on either side of him for any lurking caretakers, he sprinted as quietly as he could through the ghostly halls. He was rounding a corner in the Charms corridor when he careened smack into-  
  
Thin air.  
  
He crumpled to the ground with a yelp of fear, and gasped in horror when the air in front of him distorted itself to reveal the face of-  
  
Draco Malfoy.  
  
Fancy meeting you here.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
(special thank yous to Corinna) 


	5. The Gutter and the Stars

Weeping willow Chapter 5, the gutter and the stars.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "The course of true love never did run smooth;  
  
But either it was different in the blood -  
  
Or else misgrafted in respect of years -  
  
Or else it stood upon the choice of friends -"  
--A Midsummer Night's Dream  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's Note:(picking right up where we left off)  
  
Love to all the readers out there!  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "What the--? Malfoy, what's going on here?" Harry sputtered.  
  
"Shhh! I could ask the same of you, but no time," Draco whispered, and promptly threw the invisibility cloak over them both. From their new vantage point on the ground, the boys watched Argus Filch shuffle down the corridor, muttering. Harry didn't realize how close they were until he felt Draco's breath on his ear. He was sprawled on the ground with Draco practically on top of him, their chests barely touching and legs crisscrossed. Draco seemed to realize this as well and shifted upwards ever so gingerly.  
  
Harry gulped and whispered, "Is he gone?"  
  
Draco seemed to be having a hard time holding himself up, but shushed Harry anyway. After what seemed like an eternity, Draco finally disentangled himself from the other boy and brushed himself off. Harry tried not to be unnerved by the fact he was looking at a floating head, but Draco seemed to realize this and uncovered his shoulders, leaving the cloak around his neck.  
  
"Okay, Potter, what's all this about? Sneaking around in the middle of the night?"  
  
"I was going to get my invisibility cloak, but what about you?"  
  
Draco hesitated, listening for something Harry couldn't quite hear.  
  
"Filch," he said, "Better get out of here."  
  
Harry weighed his options, and then neatly flipped the tables by grabbing onto Draco's arm and pulling towards one of the exits. "Follow me," he said.  
  
Draco was all colors of confused, but allowed himself to be led out into the fresh, starry night. Harry pulled him insistently towards the lake, but slowed considerably when they got close to Hagrid's hut.  
  
"Potter, what the hell are we doing?"  
  
"Getting away from Filch, and we're going to talk, but we can't be seen. Mind sharing a bit?" Harry moved in close enough to pull the cloak over the both of them, and quietly they walked past the stone hut. Over the loud snores emanating from within the hut, Harry told Draco to make a sharp left at the edge of the lake. This direction took the boys to Harry's favorite hiding place, the weeping willow. Harry felt strange being this close to Draco, but tried not to make things awkward and instead quickened his pace to reach the tree.  
  
"Here, we can wait here till Filch goes off to bed." Harry said once they were safely within the shelter if the willow's drooping branches.  
  
"That guy sleeps?" Draco said incredulously, and Harry chuckled.  
  
"Well, we can only hope."  
  
Harry slipped out from under the cloak while Draco fumbled with the throatlatch. Noticing Draco's struggling, Harry reached over and swiftly undid the catch from Draco's neck, letting the cloak puddle to the ground. Draco went very still, then mumbled a quick "Thanks," as he bent to scoop up the silvery garment. Harry moved close to the tree, placing one hand on its bark and peering up through the tangle of whispering branches. Draco shifted uneasily.  
  
"So, what did you want to talk about?" The Slytherin asked.  
  
Harry smiled sheepishly, "Well, I'm not really sure, actually. I didn't plan much further than getting away from Filch, to be honest."  
  
Draco shook his head and turned towards the lake, silently admiring its glassy shimmer under the moonlight.  
  
Harry shifted from one foot to the other. "Draco-" He began  
  
The other boy didn't turn around when he replied, "What?"  
  
"I-I just want to know what's going on. Why you're acting different. And why you've been watching me."  
  
"What--?" Draco was amazed.  
  
Harry lost a bit of his nerve then. It was possible Ron had made a mistake when he said that Draco had been observing him, but it seemed that even now Draco was avoiding something. Harry moved to stand slightly behind Draco, keeping his words moderated.  
  
" I dunno. I mean, first you save my life, then say you don't want anything in return, then I hear you've been watching me," Harry sighed "And now--now I can't even have an argument with you anymore!"  
  
Draco didn't turn. "What do you want from me, Potter?" He sounded strained.  
  
"Just an explanation," Harry moved to Draco's side, watching the blond boy's unmoving profile.  
  
"I can't give you that."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because I don't have one," Draco said.  
  
"Then tell me the truth."  
  
Now Draco turned on Harry. "You really think it's that easy? Oh sure, tell everything I shouldn't to the one person who could use the information to the worst possible purposes. That sounds like a fantastic idea!"  
  
Harry met Draco's angry gaze with serenity. "You honestly think I would do that?"  
  
"I don't know, Harry Potter. You might hate me, you might not care. But that doesn't mean I should tell you everything just because you want me to."  
  
"I don't *want* anything from you, Draco," Harry replied.  
  
This use of his first name made Malfoy pause for a second. "I don't understand you at all, Potter."  
  
"That's what I'd like to change. Because obviously we can't go back to being enemies like before."  
  
As Draco stared Harry straight in the face, he realized that Harry was almost exactly his height. He dropped his eyes to the side and said quietly,  
  
"Why not? I don't want to be your friend. I don't want to cozy up to the Weasel and Granger. I don't want to say hello to you in the halls and talk and tell you things. I want it to be just like it was, if it's all the same to you."  
  
"Do you really think it would work?" Harry gave him a look that said he knew it wouldn't, "And it's not all the same to me. Things are different. You can't just pretend like it never happened."  
  
Draco moved to put one hand on the willow's trunk. Night was a blanket of stillness over the two of them, the willow tree, and the world. He turned away from Harry with a grimace.  
  
And as the part of his brain that was usually right screamed at him to run far, far away-Draco, for the first time in his life, told Harry the truth.  
  
"I was supposed to kill you."  
  
Harry blanched behind him. "You mean--?"  
  
"Yes. Well, I was supposed to keep a tracking spell on you so you might," Draco swallowed, "Conveniently disappear."  
  
Harry was nearly speechless. Draco had been told to eliminate him, but had gone two steps back and saved his life. It didn't add up, but Harry was too awash with conflicting feelings to play mathematician at the moment.  
  
He put a hand tentatively on Draco's shoulder, "Then-why did you rescue me?"  
  
The wind through the branches was the only sound to be heard for a long while. Finally Draco twisted around to look Harry in the eyes. All the nighttime sounds dulled as if the entire scene was waiting for this exchange to unfold. A large lump gathered in Draco's throat, catching his tongue and making him wince. Swallowing, he said,  
  
"I couldn't let you die. As much as we might fight and bicker and compete, without you I'd have nothing to work for. I'd be bored as hell. Do you realize that all I've got in this world are Crabbe, Goyle, and competing with you? I-" Draco took a deep breath. He was in too far already, but there was nowhere else to go.  
  
"I need you, okay? That's all there is to it."  
  
The ever-composed Gryffindor took a stuttering step backward and tripped over a tree root, landing firmly on his hind end with a squawk. Silence reigned, until both boys began laughing so hard tears came to their eyes. It hadn't been that funny, but the laughter was such a release that neither of them could stop. They laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation, at all the time spent worrying and fretting over issues that weren't there to begin with, and most of all at the irony of two of Hogwarts' greatest rivals spending time together in the middle of the night under a tree.  
  
Harry was the first one to get himself under control. When his giggles finally subsided he stood up and grabbed on to a tree branch for support.  
  
"I shouldn't have told you that, you know," Draco commented dryly from the ground as Harry swung himself up into the tangle of branches.  
  
"Why? It isn't written in stone that once you hate somebody you have to hate them forever. I stopped hating you a while ago." Harry said with a casual flip of his hair.  
  
Draco frowned in thought, letting his brain digest what Harry had said. This was uncharted territory, with thousands of potential dangers. Yet, he couldn't seem to stop no matter how much he backwatered. Harry dropped to the ground next to him, barely an arm's length away.  
  
Harry showed a bit of crooked smile and rubbed the back of his neck, the perfect snapshot of innocent bashfulness. He cleared his throat and inquired,  
  
"So, what do you propose we do?"  
  
"Well, I can't exactly kill you now," Draco's voice was cold.  
  
"I guess I ought to be grateful, then?" Harry teased.  
  
Draco actually smiled. "Maybe, you never know, I could always strangle you while you sleep or something," He replied, with an air of nervous nonchalance. He looked out again from under the cover of the drooping branches, searching for something to say and at the same time trying to make it look like he wasn't.  
  
"Harry-"  
  
Draco turned to find the other boy closer than he'd expected it. Or perhaps it was his imagination. Harry seemed to be questioning something silently, and suddenly, the space between them closed. Draco's mind reeled and screeched in sheer panic for a split second, but as Harry touched his shoulders ever so cautiously, Draco realized that he was as rooted to his spot as the tree by which they stood. Mercury shades of grey leaped to collide in midair with jade overtones, and the world shrank to one point of feeling. Harry's lips closed over Draco's, gingerly at first, then with conviction. Draco might as well have been Petrified, standing like a specter hovering between the misty world of dreams and the tangible, waking side of life. But soon he responded to Harry's flowering kiss, and for a flickering moment, even the stars held their breath as two enemies both realized something that had been there all along. The kiss was a breath of air, a sonnet written in feeling, a steady pull within two people as swift and strong as the tide, connecting islands separated by an ocean of uncertainty. It was a dream and a nightmare come true.  
  
But of course, poetic and pretty scenes rarely last long in the tangible, waking world. Draco's eyes opened wide and he flung himself away from Harry with a gasp. He stammered and nearly tripped over a root, while Harry seemed to be in a state of awe or shock. One couldn't be sure which.  
  
"What the-what the hell? What're you-" Draco's words came spilling out too fast for his tongue to catch.  
  
"I-I don't know-" Harry replied, touching his lower lip as if to see if the tingling sensation was real. They ran over each other with explanations and protests, each trying to say what had happened, really.  
  
"I didn't mean to-"  
  
"Hell yes you did!"  
  
"Okay fine, but it was because I, er, wanted to thank you-"  
  
"By slobbering on me?!"  
  
"Cripes, it wasn't that bad was it?"  
  
"Well, no-"  
  
"You mean you liked--?!"  
  
"NO! Jesus!"  
  
"But you-"  
  
"I didn't!"  
  
"I thought-"  
  
"Oh god,"  
  
Eventually they wound down into silence and separate states of brooding. Draco was painted with an expression of anxiety, while Harry looked like one who had just discovered the secrets of the universe. Draco's mind was a riot of sensation. Family, friends, love? What on *earth *? He shook his head, and the demons subsided if only for a minute.  
  
With an air of one who knows he is stating the obvious, Draco turned his attentions back to Harry  
  
"You kissed me."  
  
"I know. You kissed me back."  
  
And then it hit him.  
  
"-Shit."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
(Author's Note: Yes, by golly, I'm ending this chapter now. Bwahahahahaha.) 


End file.
